


Wanna bet?

by fixme_in_fortyfive



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Gen, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 02:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fixme_in_fortyfive/pseuds/fixme_in_fortyfive
Summary: Patrick just wanted to see his favorite band play live, have a good time with his friends and celebrate his birthday. Somehow he got it all, even though not in the way he had expected.





	Wanna bet?

**Author's Note:**

> Its my birthday, have a cute fic.

“You look like your dog just died or something and honestly, it makes _me_ feel guilty.”

Patrick looks up, startled. He hadn’t noticed the guy sitting down at his table, but then again, he wasn’t really expecting anyone to; not anymore anyway.

But the guy _is_ sitting across from him and it doesn’t look like he’s going to leave even when Patrick doesn’t answer and just pulls his baseball cap a little further down on his head.

“You look down, dude.”

_I am_ , Patrick thinks and sighs, but doesn’t say so. What is he even supposed to say to that?

Sorry, but my friends stood me up? By the way it’s my birthday, too? And my favorite band is playing across the street and they wouldn’t let me in because I’m not old enough?

Yeah, he’d rather not.

“That came out wrong, let me try again,” the guy says and carries on their one-sided conversation.

“I’m Pete and you look like you could need some company,” he says and holds out his hand towards Patrick, a smile on his lips.

“Because misery loves company?” Patrick tries, not making any move to take the guy’s – Pete’s – hand. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, just drops his hand, but his smile lights up at Patrick’s word, like he thought the exact same thing and is happy Patrick thought it, too. It’s a little weird, to be honest.

“So, what’s gotten you all mopey?” Pete asks and plays with the salt shaker between his hands. Patrick turns toward the window and looks across the street where he can still see a small crowd outside the club, waiting to get in.

Patrick turns back toward Pete, who is still smiling at him. He’d like to wipe it off his face, if only for the fact that he himself feels like shit.

“Sorry, I’m not the type to pour my heart out to a stranger.”

It’s sounds more miserable than he intended, but he doesn’t really care.

“But we’re not strangers. I’m Pete, I just told you,” Pete says, as if that makes them life-long friends, “and you are…”

He waits for Patrick’s answer and waves his hand between them again when he says nothing. Patrick has a feeling Pete does that a lot; gesticulate with his hands. And smile, because Patrick has yet to see any other expression on his face.

“Patrick.”

“See, we know each other. And I’ve seen you around, at shows and in that record shop down the street. You usually hang with that guy; tall, curly hair, big nose.” Pete mimics with his hands around his hair, probably in an attempt to convey Joe’s curly hair.

The recognition must show on Patrick’s face, because Pete keeps right on talking like Patrick had actually said it.

“Yeah, that guy. I’m Pete, you’re Patrick, we know each other.”

Patrick can’t help it when his lips curl into a smile of his own; Pete makes it seem real easy.

“Come on now, give me something to work with.”

Patrick wants to tell him, for some reason, but he feels too embarrassed. He’s that looser kid that got stood up on his birthday. He turns toward the window again, where the crowd in front of the club get’s smaller as more people hurry inside. At this point, the first band should already be on stage.

“I was- I was going to see my favorite band play tonight, but I couldn’t get in,” he admits at last and nods his head towards the window. Patrick can see Pete’s face in the reflection of the glass and it’s confusing when he looks absolutely excited about the confession.

“Let’s go then,” Pete says and is already out of his chair when Patrick’s head spins around to look at him.

“Go where?”

“To the club.” The _duh_ is implied, like Patrick should have known of course that is what Pete meant; totally obvious.

“I just told you, they won’t let me in.”

Pete’s smile turns into a smirk and he’s confident when he leans over the table to say “Wanna bet?”

Patrick thinks for a moment. He’s really not in the mood to get rejected again, no thanks. It’s not like Pete can magically transport them into the club and he can see no other way around the bouncer at the door, to be honest.

“Patrick.” His name rolls off Pete’s lips like he said it a thousand times before. Seeing Pete standing before him, Patrick is not sure that it’s even possible for him to turn him down. He imagines that Pete won’t accept anything else than a yes and that he’s unstoppable when he set his mind to something.

So he stands up himself and follows Pete outside and across the street. When he sees the bouncer - still the same guy as before – he stops on the sidewalk and almost wants to turn around again, but Pete walks straight up to him, greeting him like an old friend.

That’s the moment Patrick thinks Pete might actually get him inside. He watches them talk for a minute or two and then Pete points at him. The guy gives him a once-over and doesn’t seem to like what he sees, but then Pete is waving him over, calling out his name.

_Here goes nothing_ , Patrick thinks as he walks slowly towards them. Pete is smiling – surprise – and throws his arm enthusiastically over Patrick’s shoulder.

“Just make sure he stays away from the bar,” the bouncer says with the same gruff voice that told Patrick to get lost earlier before he opens the door for them to slip inside. Patrick can’t believe it, even as Pete ushers him through. They’re almost inside when Patrick hears a faint _I mean it, Pete_ behind them.

And then they _are_ inside and Patrick sees the stage and the band is playing and the crowd is shouting and singing along and one guy just jumped from the stage into the crowd.

Patrick looks at Pete, whose arm is still around Patrick’s shoulder, and he can push from his mind that he got stood up and felt like shit just minutes ago.

“What are you? Some kind of magician?”

Pete’s following laugh is loud even with all the noise around them. He pulls Patrick with him forward, but they’re not aiming for the crowd; instead walking right up to the security guy standing at the end of the barricade. Pete let’s go of him to give that guy a loose hug and Patrick stands back a couple of steps.

This time Patrick is not really surprised when – just like outside – they’re being led through a minute later. Amazed, but not surprised.

Getting into a club and watching the band from the side stage? Obviously not a big deal to Pete, but he still looks mighty proud when Patrick turns towards him.

They’re too late for the first band, but since Patrick had lost all hope to get in anyway, he’s just happy he can be here at all.

“Okay, spill it,” he shouts close to Pete’s ear; this close the music is loud enough to drown out every other sound and Patrick isn’t too sure that even his shouting is enough to carry over to Pete. He can feel the vibration through the floor right under his feet.

“I used to work here and a few of these guys owe me,” Pete answers casually, but his hopeful expression betrays his words. He is - for some reason beyond Patrick’s knowledge - waiting for his validation.

_Favors_ , Patrick thinks. Favors that Pete used to get Patrick inside the club to see his favorite band, to stand fucking side stage.

“Thank you,” Patrick shouts back, “this is amazing and it might not be the worst birthday ever.”

He can see the question written all over Pete’s face and in his wide eyes, even before he speaks again.

“It’s your birthday?”

Patrick looks at his phone, it’s still some time until midnight, so he just shrugs when he says “Not yet.”

He thinks Pete might comment on it, ask why he’d been sitting all alone at the diner, but he doesn’t.

Instead he makes it his mission to remind Patrick every few minutes how long until the band comes out and how long until midnight.

~

There’s a tap on his shoulder an Pete is shouting his name into his ear to be heard over the music. Patrick has to actively pull himself away from the show to look at him. They’ve been watching the band for a good hour and the set is about to end soon, Patrick thinks. It’s been amazing, everything Patrick hoped it would be and he wishes it would go on forever; the way he always does. He still can’t believe he’s really here, that his shit night turned around like this, from sitting alone in a diner – moping like Pete had said – to standing right here.

And it’s all thanks to Pete, who is looking at him with that indestructible smile of his. Patrick was right, he smiles a lot. And laughs; uncaring and loud, like he’s the happiest person on earth. It’s infectious and hard for Patrick not to smile, too.

“How do you feel about crowd-surfing?”

There’s a crazy gleam in Pete’s eyes and Patrick shakes his head to say _no_ and maybe a little bit to say _please don’t_.

But Pete doesn’t understand or simply doesn’t care and Patrick is not prepared for Pete to take his hand and pull him towards the edge of the stage, fast steps, and he’s not prepared for Pete to pull him into the air – just for a moment – before the crowd catches them.

It feels endless, the time he’s up there, seemingly floating through the room, weightless, hands gripping him and holding him up, keeping him in the air, pulling one way and pushing into another; but it’s probably only seconds or minutes at most. And Pete never let’s go of his hand, not even when their feet hit the ground and Patrick is struggling to find his balance again.

He laughs, breathless and his heart beating a mile minute. Pete looks one more time at his phone before he pulls Patrick into a tight hug.

“Happy Birthday,” he says, no need to shout anymore now that they’re farther away from the stage and Pete is so close. Patrick kind of wants that to go on forever, too.  

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it, the plot almost got away from me and it ended up being longer than I expected. Let me know in the comments below.


End file.
